


Ethyl, With Love

by Akallabeth



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Silly, Theo mixing drinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akallabeth/pseuds/Akallabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theo, Sleipnir, and Mamma are in a bar... </p><p>Silly one-shot; forms an azeotrope with water at 96%.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ethyl, With Love

**Author's Note:**

> All characters, places, etc., belong to the Foglios. AU/slight chronological divergence. Assume, for some reason, that once the Doom Bell rang all of the fighting stopped, and Agatha got a chance to take a nap (and thus, that the Jägers were left to their own devices to celebrate the Heterodyne's return).

By the time Seipnir and Theo recovered from their first encounter with the Doom Bell, Gil was long gone. Only the blue-haired Jäger woman introduced as “Mamma” remained. 

A series of questions flashed through Sleipnir's head, each needing its own answer, but none quite appropriate. _Where's Gil? (Answer: Gone, as he intended, to take charge of the Empire.), What should we call you? (Answer: Apparently, “Mamma”, if that's the name Gil had used....), Can you help Theo, he was shot and Gil said you'd be able to (Answer: Gil said it, so yes, but probably worth further—_ tactful _—inquiries.)_ Instead she found herself repeating: 

“This had better _just_ be a bar.”

“Iz a bar, sveethot”, 'Mamma' said. “A bar for de Jägerkin, und a hospital, und a few odder tings for de lucky vuns.”

 _A hospital?_ “Theo—my friend here—was short by that Vole. Well, Vole was trying to kill Agatha, and hit Theo instead. I bandaged him up, but if there's a real doctor...” Sleipnir realized that she was rambling, and decided to stop.

“Iz no doctors here, bot Hy can fix him op. Already deed you friend, hyung Vulfenbach.”

“Ok, that's—” _A relief? Good news for Theo? A better reason why Gil trusted us to you?_ “--great. Thank you.”

“Hokay, let's look at hyu boyfriend.”

A hour later, the three of them were sitting at a table in the main hall: Theo with a newly bandaged and healing shoulder, Sleipnir with a healthy respect for Mamma Gkika's medical skills and relatively more peace of mind, and Gkika with an apparently un-ending series of stories about her “boyz” and the different horrific injuries they'd recovered from.

“Uf course, Hy can't do moch about Dimos hund. Ve need a Heterodyne for dot sort uf spark shtuff. Redgar had to vait over tvelve years for a new hund, beck ven Gradok vas de only Heterodyne, bot vas shtill too hyung to vork on us.”

“Wow.” Theo shifted his shoulder experimentally. “I feel...surprisingly good.”

“Fortunately for you, Mamma here knows her stuff.”

“Hy hef hed a lot uf practice.”

Theo cast an interested glance up and down the bar. “As a gesture of thanks, may I show you something that I've had a bit of practice with...”

“Ha. Last time he did this, we ended up storming Caste Heterodyne with five people and a cat.”

“Ho, zo hyu're goot at diz?” Mamma stepped behind the bar and started pulling bottles. “Let's see vot hyu gots, keed.”

Forty minutes later, there was considerably less liquid in most of the bottles on the counter top, and all three imbibers were slumping slightly in their chairs.

“I've never drunk with a Jaeger before,” Theo rambled, “but that was truly impressive, madam.” 

Mamma Gkika grinned at the pair, showing off her plentiful and rather sharp selection of teeth.

“Thank hyu, keeddo. Again, Hy hef had practice. Und my boys, vell, dey drink like de proverbial fishes.”

The small pyramid of empty glasses in front of her attested to the truth of these pronouncements.

“Zo, vot deed hyu call dot lasht vun again?”

“After the sugar doom? That was a new one. I'm thinking of calling it “Mechanicsburg With More Sugar and No Regrets”

“That would explain the snail aroma and the...”, Sleipnir could still focus. Really. She could. Yeah, just needed to focus on it more. Focus on the focusing. Got it. “The sugar-sludge stuff.” She poked at the bottom of her glass, with its sort of viscous, mildly green residue, which was now running over her finger. Smells like—alcohol. With a hint of snail. Tastes like—sugar. With alcohol and a hint of snail.

“Yep. It's a suit-a-ble name.”

“Hy hef never had anyting quite like it. Vot vould it take to gets de recipe?”

“Hmm... well, you did patch up my shoulder... so...”

“No. No. You're ruining a, a perfectly good, thing. A, one of those, you know, opportunities”, Sleipnir interjected. “Wasting it, because you're, wasted, you know.” She started giggling fit to burst. “Need to negotiate before giving up your advantage.”

“Am I drunk enough to be negotiating with a dangerous, bar-owning woman who happens to be a Jägermonster?” Theo asked of no one in particular.

“Ho keed, hyu iz verra drunk to be negotiatink vit me vitout a battleaxe or dree.”

“That's it! I will trade the secret my Mechanicsburg Sucre sans Regrets for a battleaxe. And then, we defend Agatha's city for her!”

“Hokay, dot's de spirit, keeddo! Anodder round for de shmot guy!”

“More drinks!” Sleipnir raised her glass. “To negotiations! And drinks!”

“And battleaxes!” Theo added.

“Und defendink Miz Agatha's city!”

***

The next morning...

“Hez ennyvun seen Mamma?”, Jorgi asked. Karl yawned and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his green-clawed hands.

“No, vy?”

Those Jägers not confined to the infirmary, or invited into the private rooms by the more adventurous Jägerfrauen, tended to sleep in the main barroom. One of the main advantages, thereof, being that is was usually easy to find whomever you were looking for, and very easy to find a few if you weren't particular about which. There had been talk at one point of adding some dormitories for overnighting Jägers, but no one found it particularly needful—Jägers being well-adapted to hardship, the thought of sleeping on a bed in preference to a recently-broken bench or debris-strewn floor was a despicable weakness to be avoided (and certainly not to be admitted to).

“Hy tink Hy seen her lasht night”, said Rerich. “De gurls called her avay, someting to do opshtairs”, he  
added.

“Ve ken go opshtairs now, yah?”, Karl sounded jubilant. “De bell hez rung und everyting!”

“Huh. Hyu really vant to see de tourishts?” Rerich wasn't a huge fan of them.

“Vy not? Dey're fonny!” Karl retorted. At the same time that Vlad, who had just joined them from underneath the table, observed :“Iz early for de tourishts, no?” 

“No, iz important,” Jorgi tried to explain. This thinking stuff was tricky enough even when you weren't surrounded by the likes of Karl or Oggie. Another sign that thinking really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. “Mamma alvays vakes us op und makes us clean op de room firsht ting in de mornink. Vy hez she not done diz?”

“Becuase ve hef a Heterodyne und are celebratink?”, Karl asked hopefully.

“No, Hy tink she vould shtill vant it cleaned op”, Rerich considered. “Jorgi iz right. Hy don't like it. Ve need to look for her.” 

The multicolored group set off for the ground-level, playfully guessing at which of Mechanicsburg's resident monsters could best which of the Baron's forces, should circumstances turn that way. This, of course, led to natural speculation about whether the new Lady Heterodyne intended to take the younger Wulfenbach as her consort, or as one of her consorts.

“He hez a verra nize hat”, Karl pointed out.

“Und he deed save her town vit de lightning shtuff”, Jorgi considered.

“Maxim sed dot vas a nize leedle show”, added Vlad. 

“Hy dunno, it seems a bit prezum-, pre-, hyu know, dot ting vere hyu do zumting bot hyu should hef let zum one else do it, like dey vas vaiting or zumting---?” Rerich got a bit flustered. “Hy mean, vot if she vanted to zep dose clenks herself?”

“Dot Van vas talkink wit heem, iz mebbe a goot—Gott's leedle fish in trouzers!” 

They had reached the staff portion of the ground floor—a modest hallway of storage closets behind the kitchen, with an archway at the end opening onto the bar. All four of them stopped talking at once, hands on weapons, dropping into fighting stances. 

The room was quiet. Too quiet. None of Mamma's girls were in evidence, with their usual morning cleaning and preparations. The bar in front of them was covered in bottles (mostly empty).

“Iz dot--?”

“Mamma?”

“Bot she never...”

“Vell, ve do hev a Heterodyne again.”

“Yas, brodders, ve do.”

“Hy tink”, Vlad slid his knives back into their sheaths, “dat ve should let de gurls take care of dis, ya?”

“Ya. Mamma iz not morning person”, Jorgi added. “Hy do not tink de hangover vill mek her von, no?”

“Ya.” 

“Ya.”

“Ve go.”


End file.
